


Abyss

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-07
Updated: 2006-03-07
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Tucker's thoughts about Reed after surviving 1.16 "Shuttlepod One." (01/18/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

//I fall on my bed only a second after I reached my quarters. God, how glad I am to be here again. I'm tired, so goddamn tired...yet I can't sleep. And even if I sleep I dream.

My stomach growls. I should eat something, I know. But that means I have to get up, get me something or return to the mess hall. And that means I would have to put back on that mask, talk to people, laugh yet I don't feel like it, joke yet I don't find anything funny anymore. It's kinda interesting that I seem to have lost about all my feelings, or better the ability to feel anything. Anything but pain—sometimes sharp like a knife being stabbed into my heart, sometimes dull and overwhelming. It's like...like trying to swim in a dark gray, ice cold molasses, that drains you from all your energy. Like a black hole, but it doesn't attract matter or light, but living energy—and emotions. It seems it has sucked up everything that is good in my life. And the more you fight, the more you struggle to get out the deeper it sucks you in. Until you're simply too tired to move a single muscle, too tired to feel, or to fight...geeeez, I _am_ tired. I really would like to sleep. But then I'll dream. Not that I don't like to dream, that's not it...though...

I wish it would stop. Those dreams, those images, of _you_...I didn't know it could hurt that much. Hell, I didn't know _I_ could hurt that much. I mean, shouldn't it be—nice? A warm feeling? I don't feel warm. Haven't felt warm for months. Only—yes, only when I'm with you, when I hear your voice, when I see that sparkle in your eyes, when I can be near you and feel your presence...Oh, great, there we go again. Stop shaking, goddammit! Hell, it hurt. Think I'll have to get up nonetheless...where is that stuff? Ah, here we go. Hm, will have to get another bottle...Not even a good old Bourbon like this warms me up anymore. Only leaves me numb, lessens the pain and the trembling a little, let me sleep. At least for two or three hours. And then the dreams will come: and I will wake up after...an' realize I'm all alone again. That's the moment I want to...just stop, you know? Close my eyes again, return to my dreams, to the images. Feel warm, secure, safe...not cold an'...yes, lost. Oh no, not that wheezing again. Don't know why but I seem to have troubles breathin' once in a while. Feels as if there's an iron band wrapped around my chest that tightens; or a weight on my body preventing myself from taking deep breaths. Okay, Trip, slow now, try it...yes, that's it. Again...got it. I can get it under control, I know that. Okay, that's it. Whew. Yep. Good stuff, that Bourbon. Think I will be able to dream tonight.

There's one thing really funny at this whole mess: nobody seems to care. Nope, not even the cap'n. Knows me for over eight years now, an' doesn't seem to be int'rested to take a closer look. What does that tell me? I'm one hell of an actor? Cheers, Trip, ole buddy. I wonder how long I'll be able to work properly, how long it'll take till I make a major mistake, one that'll cost life. These days I function properly. Hell, even am thankful for it, distracts my thoughts. Until I see you...

When I was with you, in that shuttlepod, an' we thought they were all dead...I would've done ev'rythin' to keep you alive. Hell, if you hadn't pulled me outta that airlock I'd be dead by now...

Why did you do it? Why didn't you just leave me the hell there and be done with it? Why did you...condemn me to live?

I sound like a goddamn weakling, don't I? Yep, certainly do. Salute, Trip, my friend.

I know I should talk to someone. Phlox? Yeah, right. Jon? Of all people. You? Hell, no, never! I can almost see that look in your eyes, when you try to hide the shock and the revulsion...when you try to be my friend though all you wanna do is get away from me as far as you can. Now where did all that Bourbon go? Oh, right...there.

I don't even know what's goin' on here, what's happenin' to me. All I know is I'm doin' somethin' a friend mustn't do. I know you're my friend. That's what makes it so hard. 'Cause what I feel for you is beyond friendship. Hell, I even recall the precise moment when I fell. T'was when I looked into those eyes of yours for the first time. Didn't realize it at first but that was when I fell in love with you. One shouldn't think that way of a friend. Let alone act on it...when the quarters are too confined and the walls are coming closer, I think of you and I would ask myself for the n-th time how it would feel to weave my hands into your hair, feel your lips on mine, your hands on my skin...well, you know what I would do then. Only to get down on my knees in front of the toilet afterwards, letting the disgust about myself get the better of me. And then I would wash the foul taste away with a good stiff drink, wash down the feeling of shame and self-hatred. And it would work, but the smell is still in the air until the air-conditioning would have changed the air in the room. Then I would sink down in my already tangled sheets and simply cry my heart out.

Got forgive me, but I love you, Malcolm Reed . It's not the only thing. See, there's that pool, that—abyss, and it's tryin' to get me. Hell, it's getting' closer ev'ry goddamn day! And I'm so tired...wish I could sleep. Dream of you without bein' forced to wake up again, face the 'real world'. I know you wouldn't want me to do that. You would want me to fight, stay...I'll try. I'll do my very best. But the abyss is getting' closer. It'll get me one day, you know. One day it'll be there, even closer than that day at the shuttlepod. And then I won't fight anymore. Forgive me...If you can...//

Trip Tucker stumbled over to his desk and took a little silver disk out of a drawer. He slid it into the recording machine and pushed a button, listening to his own voice for, well, he had no idea how many times he had listened to this record, falling asleep from the effect of the Bourbon and the exhaustion of crying, and waking up with tears in his eyes again. Like he would tonight as well, most likely. Trip squeezed his eyes shut and took another swing of his drink.

//"Dear Malcolm, when you receive this letter..."//


End file.
